


He's Never Returning Here Again

by Kaatiba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatiba/pseuds/Kaatiba
Summary: An Alternate, angsty take on what could've happened when the Weasleys picked Harry up at the Dursleys' house in Book Four.ORI just want characters to acknowledge the abuse Harry's suffered and do something to stop it.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 320





	He's Never Returning Here Again

Harry made the mistake of leaving his perch on the stairs to peek his head into the living room, trying to catch a glimpse of, well he didn’t know what he was expecting, outside the larger drawing room window.

He didn’t duck out fast enough to avoid Vernon Dursley wiggling out of his armchair to stomp over and grab the back of Harry’s hoodie, dragging him into the room.

“Is this some trick, boy? I’m starting to think these freaks of yours aren’t even planning to show, and now you’ve gone and ruined another day’s worth of our valuable time!” He’d imperceptibly clutched his meaty fists tighter and tighter around the collar of Harry’s hand-me-down hoodie so that it was beginning to create a red stripe across the side of his neck, as Harry tried to shake him off, to no effect. 

Uncle Vernon clamped his hand around Harry’s bicep and started dragging him over towards the side table with the landline, yelling, “Accountability! You’re going to get an explanation for this-” 

Harry didn’t have time to explain that the Weasley’s probably wouldn’t pick up a telephone call even if Mr. Weasley had a novelty one at the burrow, when a loud bang emitted from the fireplace, sending debris flying across the pristine living room, and Harry staggering back, arm still trapped in Vernon’s vice. 

When Harry looked up, the world was askew, or rather, his glasses had been knocked so from whatever blast shook the house. 

That’s when Harry heard the voices he recognized as the Weasley’s and a grin broke out.

“They tried to floo powder in!” He laughed, mostly to himself. Since Uncle Vernon, moustache pale with dust, was frozen with his grip still strangling Harry’s arm, he called out towards the boarded up fireplace.

“Mr. Weasley! Ron, Fred, George, I’m out here!”

At that point, Mr. Weasley finally blasted the rest of the blockage away, and four familiar redheads emerged into Aunt Petunia’s shell-shocked drawing room. 

“Harry?” Ron poked his head over his father’s shoulder to find his best friend, standing by the window. His grin faded when he saw Vernon Dursley holding him half off the ground. 

Vernon had finally gotten over his shock, and was now brimming over with righteous fury and indignation. “Never in my life!” He roughly dragged Harry up to full height, and Harry tried not to wince at what he knew would later become bruises around his right arm. “All your Aunt’s work, ruined!” he punctuated each word with a shake of Harry’s arm, and Harry felt his already askew glasses slip further down his nose.

Now, all the Weasleys were frowning at Harry and Uncle Vernon. The normally amiable Mr. Weasley gave Uncle Vernon a polite, but cold greeting, “You must be Harry’s Uncle, and Aunt,” he nodded towards Petunia cowering behind the couch, Dudley under her skinny arms, “I apologize for the mess, er, I made some miscalculations regarding our arrival, but I assure you, it can all be fixed with the flick of a wand.”

At the name and sudden sight of this offending object, all the Dursleys took a horrified step back, Harry stumbling back with the motion, feeling quite like a rag doll. 

The dust and debris was quickly sucked out of the room like it never existed at all, the furniture straightened itself, even the old flowers in Petunia’s vase grew less wilted. 

Instead of looking grateful, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked absolutely appalled. 

Pretending not to notice the abject horror with which the Dursleys were staring at their father, the twins both stepped forward. 

Fred smiled coolly, “Why don’t you let go of Harry now?”

“So he can show us to his room?” George said, voice chipper, but eyes stony. 

Uncle Vernon finally seemed to notice he was still holding on to Harry’s arm, and let him go with enough force that Harry almost stumbled again. He rubbed his upper arm, but couldn’t stop smiling. For a terrible half hour, he’d really worried the Weasleys had forgotten or deserted him. 

But now Ron, somehow taller than the last time Harry saw him, walked forward to hug him, but not before sending an angry glance at the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon in particular. 

“C’mon, mate, we’ll grab your trunks and stuff.”

Harry led them out of the tense atmosphere of the living room where he could hear Mr. Weasley painfully trying to make small talk. 

He led the Weasley brothers up to his room, and for the first time ever, was painfully aware of how sparse it looked. Aside from a sketch of Hedwig he’d made one night when extreme boredom overtook him, and one of the moving pictures of his parents from the album Hagrid gave, there wasn’t anything on his walls. 

He tried to subtly pull the picture of his parents down and put it in his pocket, he couldn’t forget it and risk the Dursleys destroying it.

“Well, this is it,” he gestured at the few trunks and Hedwig’s cage, which he’d had packed almost since the day the Weasleys’ over-stamped letter had arrived. 

The twins each took a trunk and disappeared quickly into what Harry told them was Dudley’s room to “leave a couple presents”, and Harry himself grabbed Hedwig’s empty cage and followed after them back down the stairs. 

George took a wrong turn away from the living room at the bottom of the stairs and began curiously inspecting the rest of the house, sticking his nose into the muggle kitchen. Fred also peeked around and even Ron seemed interested in seeing where “typical Muggles” lived. 

It was Fred that accidentally knocked the cupboard door open with his shoulder and peered inside with interest. Harry didn’t say anything, but he could feel something like anxiety unspooling in his chest. 

Ron was the first one to pick up on Harry’s discomfiture and frown at him before peering in as well. The wall was filled with crayon doodles and things Harry had carved there with his finger nails when his stolen crayons had been confiscated. 

There were the childish renditions of his name “Harry Potter” with the “P” drawn backwards and more recent doodles like Filch’s cat and a sketch of the Forbidden Forest he’d made when he’d been locked up as a temporary punishment the summer after his second year. 

To Harry’s unease, the small cot he’d spent his childhood sleeping on was still there, rumpled from his last use, since apparently Aunt Petunia found his memory to repulsive to warrant going near it for tidying up.

“Harry..” Ron glanced back at his best friend and his voice was concerned and horrified and calm all at once. 

Fred and George looked at Ron’s stricken face, back to the tiny cot and Harry’s handwritten initials, and back up to Harry, whose face had grown rather hot in the last few minutes. 

They looked at each other and seemed to come to a sort of resolution. George turned to Harry and asked with an air of forced lightness, “Harry, is this your old bedroom?” “Er, yeah,” he replied, not quite meeting their eyes.

George continued, conversationally, “For how long would you say you slept here?”

Harry shrugged helplessly, for once wanting to return to the room with the Durselys in it, “Up until the summer after our first year,” he risked a glance at Ron, whose ears and face were red and looked ready to say something heated, when Fred laid his hand on Ron’s shoulder somewhat placatingly. 

“Well in that case, we have one or two more matters of business,” They quickly ran back up the stairs towards the Dursleys’ bedrooms before Harry could stop them, leaving him alone with Ron.

“Mate..” Harry waited for Ron to say he should’ve told him about sleeping in the cupboard and get angry but all Ron said was, “I’m sorry.” 

Harry looked up quickly to see Ron’s blue eyes bright and sincere and wiser than his age. His anxiety eased somewhat.

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry mumbled, but Ron scoffed, “It is, Harry! It...you didn’t..you  _ don’t  _ deserve this, any of this,” he gestured towards the whole house and Harry knew what he was trying to say.

“I know I’ve always been...kinda jealous of your..of your money, but I never thought about...just, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah thanks, Ron” Harry said, wanting to disappear into the ugly pink carpet. They both coughed gruffly and looked at their feet as Fred and George reappeared looking vindicated.

“What did you do?” Ron asked with a knowing look in his eye.

“Just left some gifts,” George piped up. “Nothing lethal,” Fred reassured.

Ron smiled bitterly, “Shame.” And with that, the four boys finally returned to the drawing room where the almost comedic standoff was still taking place. 

“Ah! Boys! Good,” Mr. Weasley seemed happy to be relieved of being alone with the silently fuming Vernon Dursley, “Best we be off now,” he gestured towards Harry to come along. 

Harry walked towards the fireplace before turning around and giving a halfhearted “See ya” in the Dursleys’ direction. Predictably, they did nothing but glower and cower in fear. 

But Mr. Weasley seemed confused and frustrated, pausing Harry with a small touch to his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” He waited for a response to no avail, eyebrows furrowing.

“Your nephew and ward isn’t going to be back until next summer.”

Harry deflated at the reminder of returning while Vernon Dursely shook in fury over being lectured by his worst living nightmare. Surprisingly though, it was Aunt Petunia who finally broke her silence with a shrill, “Good riddance.” Immediately after saying this, her bout of courage deflated, and she returned to cowering over her son who was wiping tears and snot from his nose.

The twins looked as angry as Harry had ever seen them, and Ron took a step towards the Dursleys in anger, wand half raised, but it was Mr. Weasley who stopped his son with a hand to the chest. His eyes were steely, and his mouth thin.

“Not like this, they’re not worth it, Ron.” 

Without another word, Mr. Weasley ushered all the boys through the chimney and back to the burrow, where they greeted Ginny, Charlie, and Bill quickly and somewhat tersely.

It was Ginny who asked, “Why the long faces? You guys okay?” She peered at Harry in particular, trying to catch his eye.

Mr. Weasley, who had just stepped out of the floo powder himself, answered her, “No, Ginevra, unfortunately the situation is not remotely as okay as we thought it to be.” Ginny just glanced at her brothers in confusion but they seemed equally upset.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen, and immediately went to hug Harry before noticing the tense set of everyone’s shoulders. 

She checked Harry over, cupping his cheek, “Arthur?”

“Molly, dear, would you kindly make a pot of tea for everyone? We need to have a family discussion about how Harry is never returning to Privet Drive again.”


End file.
